


The Minyard 12 Step Guide to Recovery

by BetterNameToCome



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, Alcoholic Kevin Day, Andrew is an asshole, Andrew never joined the foxes, Kevin and Neil are in the pros, M/M, Post-Canon, Riko isn't dead, alternative universe, so canon, sober companion au, someone with no experience with addiction writing a story about addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-01 19:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterNameToCome/pseuds/BetterNameToCome
Summary: Andrew Minyard was good at taking care of people, even if he never cared about himself. It only made sense he found himself as a sober companion. Perhaps in another life, he would have been playing alongside Kevin Day rather than picking the man up from the gutter. This life made sense for Andrew. What didn't make sense was Kevin's teammate Neil that Andrew just couldn't seem to shake.





	1. Intro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the idea for this story about a year back when I read Light with a Sharpened Edge https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787530/chapters/17764930 a Raven Cycle story by poetic_leopard.  
tw there is a reference to suicide (no attempts, simply Andrew being an asshole)  
Big thanks to hydromiel for translating the french :D

Andrew did not hate his life. That would require being invested in it, something he couldn’t bring himself to be.

His cousin Nicky was invested for the two of them. His cousin was visiting him from Germany for the week, much to Andrew’s annoyance. It had been 6 years since he graduated high school. He had assumed Nicky would have been done with him then, but as much as Andrew pushed his cousin away, he never was.

“Really, Andrew. Like three guys have hit on you, nothing?” he paused, as though expecting Andrew to do more than stare blankly at him.

Andrew poured another shot at whiskey for the next customer, paying no mind to his cousin. “I just wish you could find someone like Erik, you know? I just want you to be happy.”

“Not my type.”

Nicky sighed, “You know what I mean. You know there’s this great guy, Jason at our firm. Next time you’re in Germany I can introduce you.”

“Don’t think just because I’m a work I won’t stab you.” Andrews told him.

At his words, an approaching customer side-eyes him before they changed directions towards Roland.

Nicky continues to go on about finding happiness and maybe a new job that doesn’t involve alcoholics.

Andrew switches his focus to the customer, seemingly melting into the bar. “Poor Day, guy can’t catch a break, can he? Sometimes all a man needs is a drink in peace, yeah? Those NBC bastards sound just like my Melinda always prattling on…”

Andrew patiently poured him another shot of whiskey and let himself consider the irony of his situation. Andrew had two jobs, creating alcoholics and fixing them. Eden’s worked well around his unpredictable schedule, besides he could appreciate symmetry. 

“Andrew! Andrew! Are you listening to me?” Nicky demanded. Once he was satisfied that Andrew was again acknowledging him he went on. “I did miss you, both of you. Germany is amazing, but I miss having my own family. Sometimes I feel like a leech on Erik’s family you know.”

“So, you’d rather be a leech on me?” Andrew asked, ignoring any acknowledgment of his brother.

Nicky went on. “They only signed up to take in this American kid for a year, yet here I am. The sad gay whose parents don’t love him, refusing to let go.”

“You’re an idiot.” Andrew reminded him. “The Klose’s chose to take you in. Erik chooses to be with you and the Klose’s chose to continue to invite you to family event’s because that’s what you are, so stop bitching.”

Nicky gave him a soft smile. “See, this is why I missed you.”

Andrew considered the repercussions of throwing Nicky out of the bar and decided against it. “I’m going on break, don’t follow me.”

“I won’t. You know I hate the smell of your smoking. You really should quit.” Said Nicky.

Andrew ignored him, turning around to the kitchen. Roland grinned at him as he walked past.

The other staff at Eden’s twilight had long since learned to ignore Andrew, a few of the new ones still seemed afraid of him, eyeing him as he shuffled through his locker for his phone and cigarettes.

His phone lit up with a new message from Bee. Betsy Dobson had adopted him over his brief stint in rehab. They rarely spoke now, except for the occasional check-in and Bee referrals. She was the one to suggest becoming a sober companion.

Andrew did best when he was watching someone else’s back. He had discovered this in juvy and again with his brother in school, not that he appreciated it.

**Hi, how have you been? I mentioned you to a patient of mine in need of a SC. They want to meet if you’re interested. I can give you more details if you would like ** **😊** ** hope you’ve been well.**

He sent back a quick reply. He sat down in the courtyard behind the bar, his legs stretched out in front of him, pressing the back of his head against the brick.

He pulled out a cigarette and allowed himself a moment to not think and let the smoke pass over him.

Six years ago, he walked into his corrections officer’s office and saw Kevin Day sitting there, promising to make him something. Andrew turned him down. Him and everyone else that tried to appeal to some dream that Andrew did not give a single fuck about.

Andrew didn’t believe in fate, just cruel irony. Bee had told him who the patient would be, as well as the handsome fee they were willing to pay. So here he sat across from Kevin Day, Kevin the one locked up, offering a very different position.

Andrew wasn’t sure why of all rehab for the great Kevin day to be sent to, he chose Columbia rehabilitation clinic, but who is he to judge. It had been a few years since Andrew had been a patient.

This time instead of Riko at Kevin’s side it was his manager Cynthia and Coach David Wymack. Another person whose face he had laughed in.

He supposes the proximity to his father explained the choice in Rehab.

“The position involves near constant supervision. You will accompany Kevin to training, games and anywhere else he may go. Under no circumstances is Kevin to consume any alcohol. Everything you witness under this position will have a strict confidentiality clause attached.” The manager went on.

Kevin was hunched over in his chair, the arms awkwardly boxing in the athlete. Kevin kept his eyes locked on Andrew.

He did not appreciate it.

“You got it, Minyard? I don’t care if we have to handcuff you together. He better not so much as eat spiked fruitcake on your watch, got it?” Wymack told him.

Andrew looked back at them blankly. He usually somewhat attempted to be civil in interviews, but they weren’t exactly motivating him.

Cynthia gave Wymack a warning smile. “Mr. Minyard, do you have any question?”

“Why me? Why not someone with a Ph.D. and 20 years in the field for your precious star.” Andrew asks, looking directly at Kevin, who had been suspiciously quiet so far.

“You have good references. “ Wymack shrugged, “Besides we need someone who can keep up with Kevin’s lifestyle and isn’t afraid of to kick his ass into recovery.”

Andrew turned his attention on Kevin, “What do you think of this, Day?”

Kevin gave him an appraising look, “I think you’ve wasted your life as a glorified babysitter when you could have been a star. I don’t need a nanny. I need to get back on the court.”

“A star like you? You’re not a role model, you’re a coward and an alcoholic.” Andrew told him.

His eyes narrowed on Andrew. “At least I became something.”

“You got the job, kid.” Said Wymack, seemingly pleased with himself. “You got a car?” At Andrew’s nod he continued, “He’s released this Friday I expect you here to pick him up by 1 pm, got it?”

Cynthia was on her feet, hand outstretched immediately “We will email through your contract shortly. It will contain all the necessary information. We expect it signed and back by then. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Minyard.”

He elected to not shake her hand, sparing a final t look at Kevin before leaving.

* * *

Kevin’s bad attitude had not lessened over the week.

Kevin did not acknowledge Andrew as he strode out of the facility, planting him in the Maserati. Andrew was satisfied with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make small talk with the athlete.

He also did not want Kevin messing with his car, which he seemed intent on.

The radio began playing the sports station, which was the last straw.

Andrew whacked his hands away from the navigation, “Stop.”

“I’m programming in the address of the court,” Kevin said, giving him a nasty look, “Besides I refuse to suffer the car ride without the radio.”

Andrew wondered if he could get a bonus if he didn’t murder Kevin in the first week. “We are going to your apartment.”

Just as the presenters began waxing on about Kevin Day unfortunate fall to the pressures of being a champion Andrew switched it off.

“I haven’t played in two months. I need to practice.” Kevin declared.

Andrew decided vodka wasn’t Kevin’s only addiction. “What you need is to go home and unpack. Two hours in your apartment then we go to the gym. I don’t care what you do, knit yourself a noose for all I give a shit.”

Kevin fell back into his chair, muttering to himself, “Aren’t sober companions supposed to make me not want to drink.”

The rest of the drive was in silence, except for the occasional muttered curse as Kevin clung to the interior handle as Andrew made a few riskier turns.

Kevin’s apartment was less of an apartment than an entire floor, with his own attached gym.

This was of course where Kevin immediately headed.

Andrew decided to begin on his search of the apartment. Wymack had claimed to have already cleaned the apartment of any alcohol, but Andrew wasn’t about to trust him.

The kitchen was far larger than one man could need, Andrew decided. It was all monochromatic black and white and white marble. A few of the cupboards were noticeably empty. He assumed this was Wymack’s work.

Wymack had not however thought to clean out the fridge, which seemed entirely old vegetables gone to rot.

Andrew was disgusted, both at the kitchen and the knowledge he would have to go shopping.

When he was finished, he went past the gym to check that Kevin hadn’t managed to fuck anything up yet.

The gym was made up of the usual equipment as well as a miniature court, where Kevin was deadly focused on barreling the ball towards set cones.

“Careful there, Day. Wouldn’t want to get injured.” Andrew called out.

“Fuck off, stupid midget babysitter fuck.” Kevin cursed. “You could use the practice yourself. Just because you’ve decided to waste your life it’s not an excuse to let your fitness go.”

Andrew decided he found angry Kevin amusing. He had been considering taking advantage of the equipment, but now that Kevin encouraged It he would have to refrain.

He left Kevin to check the rest of the obnoxious apartment. Unlike the kitchen, most of the apartment was littered with bookshelves and trophies. Despite this, it was obvious Kevin was rarely home. He did, however, find a flask of vodka hidden away in one of the trophies.

From the hall, he could hear the front door swing open, with a shout. “KEVIN DAY, GET OUT COWARD ASS OUT HERE!”

Andrew followed the voice down towards the gym where the man continued to shout at Kevin. Andrew recognized the man as Neil Josten, the newest striker for the Barons.

He was shorter in person, only having a couple of inches on Andrew. He didn’t dress like a professional athlete. He was flooded by an oversize sweatshirt and jeans. Those weren’t the only thing that caught Andrew’s attention, however.

Noticing Andrew, Neil froze. “Who are you?”

“Tooth fairy.” He replied, “How did you get inside?”   
Kevin had managed to pull himself away from his court long enough to acknowledge the intruder.

Kevin did not seem happy to see him teammate “Are you here to train or waste my time?”

Neil turned his attention back to Kevin, “Qui est- il?”  
Kevin sent Neil a bored look, “Calme-toi, il n’est pas avec euX. C’est ma nounou.”

Andrew was unimpressed with the change in language. Perhaps he should try to pick up some French. He could tell this was going to become a regular irritation.

Josten’s pale blue eyes eyed him suspiciously, “Je n’aime pas ça.”

“Ce n’était pas mon idée.” Kevin loomed over Josten, but the asshole was clearly not intimidated,

“Do you mind?” Andrew interjected, “I’d prefer English.”

They ignore him

“tient toi bien ,” Kevin said in a warning tone. “We’re going to the court now.”

Josten seemed to perk up at the suggestion. He reminded Andrew of a puppy, a stupid single-minded puppy. Andrew resigned himself to his new job as a taxi service and grabbed his keys.

* * *

Andrew decided that Day and Josten weren’t human. They practiced their drills with the intensity of men with guns to their heads. Andrew had taken up smoking on the bench, watching them.

Day kept barking at him about court rules, but Andrew didn’t care. He had to pass the time somehow. He had grown bored quickly after the warm-up finished. Josten’s quads could only entertain him for so long.

Andrew remembered seeing Josten’s name in the news when his identity came out. He hadn’t really paid attention, but it was hard to miss the dead son of a gangster’s miraculous resurrection as an athlete.

After almost five hours Andrew put an end to their practice, much to Kevin’s annoyance. “It’s almost eight’ o clock. Dinner.” They seemed to give in at this, but Andrew had a bad feeling they weren’t finished for the day.

Kevin immediately took off for the showers. Josten, however, was jogging towards him. He was greeted by a cloud of smoke to the face.

To Andrew’s irritation the man seemed to almost enjoy it, “You got a spare?”

“Not for you,” Andrew replied.

Josten’s auburn hair was matted down with sweat, falling into his eyes. Andrew fought the temptation to sweep it away.

Josten didn’t take the hint and sat down next to him, seemingly satisfied to enjoy the second-hand smoke.

“You’re not getting into my car like that,” Andrew told him.

“I’m waiting for Kevin to be finished.” The man sighed.

Andrew decided he couldn’t stand the man, “Is your team too cheap for more than one shower?”

The man didn’t respond, closing his eyes, leaning his head against the back wall. Andrew did not miss the sight of those eyes.

“I’m not waiting for you,” Andrew added.

He shrugged. “I’ll run then. I have a key, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

Andrew wondered if Kevin would consider changing the locks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation below-  
"Qui est- il?”- Who is he?  
, “Calme-toi, il n’est pas avec euX. C’est ma nounou.”- "Calm down, he's not with them. He is my nanny.  
Je n’aime pas ça.”- I don't like it.  
“Ce n’était pas mon idée" -"It was not my idea.  
"tient toi bien" - Be good


	2. Step 1:Admit we were caught in a self-destructive cycle.

Living with Kevin Day was even more exhausting than Andrew could have imagined. Kevin was always a delight, but he reached a special level of asshole in the mornings. He channeled this into berating Andrew’s diet while drinking green monstrosities he called smoothies.

Andrew had taken to putting sugar on his lucky charms out of spite.

The worst part of the arrangement was not Kevin, but the idiot he was not paid to babysit but managed to worm his way into his life anyway.

The idiot loudly pounded on the front door. Andrew opened in an inch to peer out at Josten, whose face had turned a lovely shade of red that went well with his hair and the scar across his cheek. He had clearly just finished his morning run, from the weight to his breathing.

“Really, you’re latching the door now, you little fuck?” Josten asked.

“Sorry, the apartment doesn’t allow pets,” Andrew informed him but opened the door.

“Oh, fuck off,” Josten told him, storming into the apartment. “Couldn’t you have chosen anyone else to be your babysitter?” he asked Kevin.

Kevin just grunted.

Kevin and Neil rarely seemed to separate from each other. They were clearly co-dependent, but Andrew decided that was at the bottom of Kevin’s mountain of issues.

Kevin had yet to break under the sobriety, but Andrew knew it was inevitable. Kevin never decided to become sober. Andrew knew sobriety wasn’t something others could decide for another and it was clear that Kevin hadn’t.

The man never seemed to sleep in his own bed. Andrew had managed to pull him from the gym, but the man seemed to go from one obsession to another. Andrew regularly found the man passed out in the living room, surrounded by weathered history textbooks. 

Insomnia was a common symptom of withdrawal, but it rarely lasted past the first week. Andrew guessed that the man hadn’t slept without assistance from a bottle in a long time.

“What are you telling the rest of the team about the plus one?” Neil asked, glancing at Andrew.

“The truth?” Andrew suggested.

Kevin sighed, taking a final sip of his shake, “There’s no way around it. Everyone already knows about the incident.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Because I prefer to call it Kevin being a fucking idiot and risking his entire career because he’s a rotten coward.” Josten suggested, innocently.

“It’s too early to deal with this,” Kevin grunted into the counter.  
Josten was clearly ready for a fight, “That implies you ever plan on facing your problems instead of hiding in a bottle like a little bitch.”

Andrew moved towards Josten space, locking eyes with him, “You know It is within my rights to deem any associates bad influences that are risks to his sobriety.”

He wasn’t intimidated, “I don’t drink. Besides isn’t AA all about taking responsibility for your own bullshit?”

“Your sparkling personality would drive anyone to drink.”

Kevin had been impatiently looking at his phone over their exchange. “I’m going to practice. Are you two coming?”

Josten gave him a final glare as he followed Kevin back out the door.

* * *

Two months ago, the Barrons faced off against the Buffalos. There was nothing notable about the game, except for the end. Day hadn’t been playing his best the whole game, but nobody had expected it when he went to swing and fell onto the court, passed out cold. The news channels quickly took to the story. Kevin Day was an alcoholic.

The team seemed divided on whether too welcome Kevin back with high fives or a punch to the face.

Coach Bradley attempted to introduce himself to Andrew, only to be met with icy silence. The team was sitting together in a backroom, behind the court. Most of the team were spread across two couches and several armchairs, debating whatever pop culture they were fascinated with this week.

Andrew claimed one of the armchairs for himself, close enough to the couch containing Kevin, Josten and a dark-skinned woman with a head of intricate braids.

“Who is he?” the woman asked Josten. 

“Andrew is his carer. He cares so Kevin doesn’t have to.” Josten adds, unnecessarily.

“About time. I was getting sick of Day’s bullshit.” She replied, almost fondly.

“Thea Muldani.” She greeted. “Backliner.”

“Okay, shitheads. A warm welcome back to Kevin. He has some things he would like to say to all of you.” Bradley called out.

Kevin stood up. “Jackson, I saw your last game your aim has managed to reach a new level of pathetic. How you even manage to throw away trash is a miracle. Dermott, did you fall asleep? or has your lack of dedication to the gym made your arms so weak you cannot even hold up your racket to block? And you Laurens, you were fumbling around like a dying rat. It hurt my eyes to look at you.”

This was apparently not what the team were hoping for, but nobody seemed surprised.

A dealer with cropped blonde hair and a strangely square head stood up, clearly unhappy with Kevin’s words. “You know what hurts me to look at? A fucking hypocrite who couldn’t even be knocked off his high horse by almost getting his team disqualified with his bullshit.”

“Sit the fuck down, Laurens. Even Kevin pissed out of his mind on vodka still managed to score more goals than you.” Josten interjected.

Bradley blew his whistle. “Shut up, children. We’re not going to waste our time squabbling about past, alright? We’ve lost too many games this season. We need to win almost every game of this bracket to pass on, got it?”

The team quietened down.

One of the more obnoxiously tall players raised his arm. “Er I agree, but one question.” When nobody argued he went on. “Who’s the midget? Did Kevin adopt a pre-teen while he was in rehab, or what?”

Andrew had long since grown bored of the short jokes.

“Andrew’s my sober companion,” Kevin announced. “It was one of the requirements for me to remain on the team.”

Josten muttered something that sounded awfully like “babysitter.”

After team practice, Andrew went to the gym to work out, rather than waste his time on the bench while they practiced. He hoped Kevin could avoid fucking up anything under the eyes of all his teammates.

* * *

At a glance, AA is identical to the group therapy sessions Andrew suffered through in Juvy and Rehab. Andrew despised them. At least now could watch Kevin suffer instead of him.

Kevin seemed far too large for the beige room and fold-out chairs that they were sitting on. Andrew was stuck over by the snack table with the other tag-along, each as interesting and beige as the packet coffee they served.

Andrew leaned against the drinks table, ignoring the others to watch his charge.

They other alcoholics kept glancing at Kevin with interest. The cherry freckle-faced woman leading the session began her spiel about healing and owning up to one’s mistakes.

Andrew was technically an addict, but he was a rare case where he had no say in it. He may have gotten the withdrawal of an addict and the begging and threats that it reduced him to, but he never had to go through NA or any other crap after rehab.

When they reached the introductions everyone’s eyes were locked on Kevin as he introduced himself.

“I’m Kevin and I’m an alcoholic.” Kevin droned. His expression reminded Andrew how man threats it took to bring him here.

“Are you really that athlete?” A middle-aged woman who Andrew decided was likely called Tracy asked.

Kevin ignored them.

Kevin predictably remained quiet throughout the meeting. Once it was over, he made a beeline for the door, not waiting for Andrew. Andrew pulled out a cigarette.

At Kevin’s disgust, Andrew offered him one

“I don’t believe in poisoning my lungs.” Kevin replied as they reached the Maserati.

“Just your liver then?” Replied Andrew. He unlocked the car and watched Kevin throw himself into the passenger seat.

Kevin lacked a lot of positive qualities and patience was one of them. He drummed his fingers on the dashboard, shooting irritated looks at Andrew as he leaned against the car finishing his cigarette.

“I’m not going back.” Kevin declared.

Andrew resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, “Do you want to play exy again?”   
“Obviously.” Kevin snorted.

“Then you’re going back.” Andrew threw what was left of his cigarette on the concrete and stubbed it out with his shoe.

Andrew got into the front seat and started to reverse out of their park.

“It’s a waste of my time,” Kevin told him.

“Are you all better then? Life long mental illness all cured? No desire to drink yourself to sleep, no damn given if you wake up again?” said Andrew.

“I’m not like them. I’m not some sad alcoholic.” Said Kevin, stubbornly.

If Andrew were someone else, he would have snorted. “No, you’re worse. Most of the people there have at least completed the first step of recovery. You’re two months in and still in denial.”

Kevin didn’t respond, instead choosing to slouch in his seat and spend the car ride pouting.

* * *

When they returned to the apartment Kevin immediately stormed off to his room.   
“What did you do to piss him off this time?” Josten asked, watching from the hall. He was dressed in gym clothes once again, a loose long sleeve shirt and jogging shorts. Andrew did his best to ignore the bead of sweat falling down his neck.

“Did you move in without me noticing?” Andrew asked him.

Josten ignored him, “I’m going to pull Kevin out of his room. I need someone to spot me.”

Andrew followed him down the hall, considering what next to say to best rile up the ginger.

When Josten knocked on the door, instead of being met with the expected bitching there was silence.

Kevin’s usually scarce room was wallpapered in photos. Each of these photos was Kevin, many of which featured Kevin passed out in his own vomit.

On Kevin’s bed, there was a bouquet of dark red, almost black tulips and a bottle of vodka, which Kevin was holding in his hand, eyes locked on the attached note.

Andrew immediately tore both from his hands.

The note simply read “Welcome back #2.”

Andrew didn’t follow Exy closely, but he could guess who sent it.

“Are you going to make me change the locks?” Kevin asked.  
“Locks are too easy to pick,” Josten said flatly. “I’ll clean up in here. Kevin go to the gym.”

Kevin seemed satisfied with being told what to do, quickly left the room.

“You going to tell me what the deal is with Riko?” Andrew asked him.

Josten gave him a murderous look, “None of your fucking business. Get rid of that before he tries to fight you for it.”

Andrew let himself imagine what would happen if he took the bottle to Josten’s head and liked the image his mind created. “You don’t add up.”

“I’m not an equation,” Josten responded.

“I’ll still solve you,” Andrew told you. With that, he left to deal with Kevin.

* * *

Andrew found Kevin standing in the bathroom staring blankly into the mirror. Kevin’s high cheekbones, deeply tanned skin, and striking forest green eyes made up an undeniably handsome picture that was only somewhat fractured by the vicious lines of the chess piece inked on his cheek.

What caught Andrew’s attention more was the emptiness in Kevin’s expression as his hand touched where the “2” once sat.

“The fuck do you want?” Kevin spat at him, without looking away.

“To know why you’re darling brother is so determined to fuck with you,” Andrew said, the bottle still in hand.

The words hit Kevin like a slap to the face. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m here to make you deal with your addiction,” Andrew told him, “A problem that shit like that doesn’t help.”

“I’m not…” Kevin mumbles helplessly, but Andrew could see how his eyes kept darting to the bottle in his hand.

Andrew placed the bottle on the bench by the sink, “Stop yourself then.” At Kevin’s glare, he continued, “Or you could just prove your brother right. I’m not going to try and drag someone through recovery that doesn’t want to be helped.”

Kevin continued to stare at him numbly as he walked out the door.

The next morning Andrew found Kevin once again on the couch, this time still awake; holding a half-empty bottle.

“I’m not okay,” Kevin admitted, his face defeated.

Andrew nodded, satisfied and took the bottle from his hand. “Clean up, Josten will be here soon.”

Andrew wondered how long it had taken for Kevin to realize he had filled the bottle with water.


	3. Step 2: Trust that a healthy lifestyle is attainable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- there is a reference to past (canon) sexual abuse in this chapter.

Andrew hadn’t spent much time in his room at Kevin’s apartment. It was modern dark colors that like much of the house lacked any life. Since he spent most of his time at Kevin’s side, he only saw it to sleep, but he was abandoning that as well. He decided the next step for Kevin is pushing him towards a lifestyle that isn’t going to strangle him into drinking.

For that, he can’t be exhausted, which as much as the athlete denied it, he could see the heaviness behind Kevin’s eyes.

Andrew didn’t know if Kevin had insomnia or maybe nightmares, but he knew if he kept going, he was going to crack again.

He could try forcing Kevin to sleep, maybe even drugging him but he knew the second he got the chance he would be up again studying or on that court.

Josten wasn’t helping. For someone who didn’t’ live here, he spent too many of his nights at their apartment on the court with Kevin.

“You could join us.” Josten suggested, “Having someone trying to block us would help.”

Andrew was once again sitting on the bench of their court at 11 pm with Josten’s stupid face bothering him.

“Or I could just kill you both. Finally, get some quiet around here.” Andrew told him.

Neil shrugged. “I guess, but I doubt you’d get paid.”

“Why do you encourage him?” Andrew asked him.

“He’ll either do this with me or without.” Neil shrugged. “Besides we have to train.”

Andrew blew a puff of smoke into his face, “You’re an idiot.” He then drew his attention back to Kevin, “Enough, get in the shower.”

Kevin cursed but did as he was told.

“You know it’s not going to work,” Josten said to him, “Exercise doesn’t tire him out. If anything, it’s a stimulant.”

Andrew sighed, “I thought he’d like this strategy better than me banning him from the gym after dinner.”

“Since when do you care?” Josten asked him, now sitting next to him. He was eyeing up Andrew’s cigarettes.

Andrew handed him one and tries to ignore his triumphant look.

“I don’t.” He glares at him, “You seem to know a lot of about insomnia for a man who claims to be fine.”

“I’m not your patient so you can fuck off with your shrink bullshit.” Josten spat at him. Andrew wondered how he managed to get under his skin and how he could do it again.

“I’m not a therapist.” Andrew reminded him.

“Then leave me alone,” Josten said, lighting the cigarette only to let it burn out. “Besides if you’re going to keep interrogating me you have to give something back.”

Something about that made Andrew pause. Give and take is what he based his life on. Andrew cared little for manners or people in general that they often assumed he didn’t care about fairness. Josten’s words made him wonder if Josten was someone who could follow rules.  
“Stop wasting my cigarettes and go to the shower.”

Josten shrugged and left, taking Andrew’s cigarette with him.

Andrew was a light sleeper. It had developed as a defense mechanism that did little to defend him. Instead, he was left to huddle into his bed and wait, listening to the man in the next room’s footsteps as they left their bed and made their way to his.

This habit had never left him even when living with his brother and cousin he had never stopped waking up the second anyone else did. What had left was the dread that froze him in place.

He now based his plan for Kevin around this skill, waking as soon as he heard Kevin’s inevitable footprints in the room next door.

He found Kevin sitting on the couch, staring at this laptop, Josten sitting next to him.

“I’m going to tattoo the fucking rules on your foreheads,” Andrew told them, closing the laptop. “No screens and no exy.”

“What does exy have to do with sleep?” Josten asked him, looking mildly guilty.

“Nothing, but I’m bored with it,” Andrew replied, sitting down the armrest of the other couch.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” Kevin groaned.

“No.” Andrew reminded him. “Why aren’t you asleep.”

Kevin leaned back against the sofa, arms crossed like a stubborn child. “I can’t. You know this.”

“What do you think about before you go to sleep?” Andrew asked him.

Kevin shrugged. “Exy.”

Andrew was bored by how predictable he was becoming, “Stop it.”

Kevin got ready to argue, but Andrew shushed him, “I don’t trust you enough to not get yourself worked up about whatever issues being raised by a racket instead of people gave you. Stop it.”

“What else is there to think about?” Kevin asked.

Andrew was tired, “Stop being pathetic. Find something else to live for.”

When Josten came back he didn’t bother with the couch, instead taking over the rug in the middle of the room.

“Neil, what do you think about?” Kevin asked him.

Josten eyed Andrew suspiciously “Exy, childhood trauma, life.” He said flatly.

“A true inspiration.” Said Andrew. “Maybe you should both get a hobby, or maybe a therapist.”

Neil finally actually took a sip of his coffee, before asking Andrew “Are you seeing anyone?”

Andrew steadied himself to avoid falling off the armrest, “Excuse me?”

“Are you seeing a therapist?” Neil clarified, “You’re determined to make the rest of us suffer one.

“Not anymore.” Andrew admits, “Junkie athlete’s with daddy issues and millions to pay therapists with however should look into it.”

Josten glared at him, “I’m fine.”

Kevin leaned over to hit Josten over the head “Banned.”

After a warning glare from Kevin, Neil changed the topic. “When I want to sleep, I count as high as I can in every language I know.” He admitted, “Maybe you could try something like that. Maybe French or naming every team you can think of.”

“What did I say about Exy?” Andrew reminded him.

“Just because you said something it doesn’t mean I listened.” He responded, taking a sip of his coffee.

Josten took his coffee black and Andrew added this to the list of disgusting traits about him.

“Count, listen to music, maybe medication.” Said, Andrew flatly, “But you still need to find something else to live for.”

“Are you saying Kevin can’t sleep until he gets a life?” Josten asked him, holding his coffee close to his face.

Andrew wondered if he just liked the heat on his face, or if it was related to his strange cigarette habits.

“No.” Andrew said, bored, “Insomnia and depression don’t work like that. Use other shit for a short-term solution, then you have the energy to help yourself in the long-term.”

“I’m not depressed.” Kevin butted in.

“I never said you were.” Andrew crossed his arms, too aware of his armbands. “Go back to sleep. Count to a billion in Swahili. I don’t care. Try anything that doesn’t involve you downing vodka shots or waking me up again.”

Kevin reluctantly got up, “It’s not going to work.” With that he walked away.

“What about you?” Josten asked, not getting the hint to fuck off. “What do you think about?”

“I try not to,” Andrew said, honestly.

He left Josten and went back to his room, determined to sleep tonight.

* * *

Kevin had gotten out of rehab a week ago. This apparently warranted a trip to Palmetto state to visit Wymack.

What Andrew didn’t understand is why he was invited. Josten was also unexplainably there, but Andrew stopped bothering to question his presence at this point.

At dinner, Kevin was still ranting about the historical inaccuracies of the movie they just sat through.

“The Luftwaffe attacks were not that effective,” Kevin said, waving his arms in emphasis, “Why do movies always invent soldiers instead of using real people?”  
Josten nodded, as though he had paid attention. “It looks nothing like that when you get shot. They use way too much fake blood.”

Wymack pointed his fork towards Josten, “Stop reminding me how sad your life is.”

Josten just smiled at Wymack in response.

Abby came barreling in, “Boys, come help me grab dessert.”

Abby was a tall olive-skinned woman, with fiercely determined eyes, dressed in dark florals and jeans.

Andrew followed the others to the kitchen where Abby happily filling Andrew’s arms with bowls of fruit salad and ice cream “Kevin, can you more drin”- her eyes darted to him for a second “Actually Neil-“

“I can hold someone else’s drink without wanting to drown myself in the toilet.” Kevin reminded her, “Besides beer is barely even alcoholic, not to mention the calories.”

“Straight spirits are much healthier,” Josten added sarcastically.

Abby nods, “Sorry, Kevin. Neil can you grab the spoons?”

After Wymack had cleared the table they sat back down. Andrew didn’t spare the fruit salad a glance as he piled his bowl high with the mediocre vanilla ice cream.

Not long after Wymack started to dig in, he turned his attention to Andrew. “So Minyard, you an alcoholic?”

“No. Shouldn’t you have asked me that when you hired me?” Andrew replied.

Wymack shrugged, unbothered. “Betsy said you met her when you were a patient.”

“Yes.” Said Andrew.

Wymack took the hint and backed off. “Abby, did you tell the boys, what you won the other day?”

Abby took her hint and started to explain how she won concert tickets or some old rock band, neither Josten or Day had heard of.

“Ignore these two. They were raised under a rock, neither fully understand what music is.” Abby said to him.

“I know what music is, I just don’t understand why people are so invested in it.” Josten shrugged, “I suppose it can be useful when you’re working out, but then you can’t hear anything around you.”

Kevin nodded in agreement.

“Kaleigh loved music.” Wymack pondered “She always went as Stevie Nicks for Halloween.”

Kevin smiled almost fondly, the most genuine emotion Andrew had seen from him yet, “Yeah I think I remember that. She always used to dance around the kitchen to that Fleetwood Mac song, the one with all the drums.”

“Tusk?” Abby asked.  
“Yeah,” Kevin replied quietly.

The conversation went on to the new foxes and what utter disappoints they were shaping up to be.

* * *

The next night they once again found themselves draped across the living room at 3 am.

“Should I learn another language?” Neil wondered out loud. He was somehow lying on top of Kevin obnoxious leather sofa, arms stretched out over his eyes.

“You’re already learning Japanese, shut up and go to sleep.” Kevin replied, curled into a ball on the armchair.

“I would love to, but I have to wait for my asshole teammate to before I can.” Neil sighed.

“You don’t live here.” Andrew reminded him, “Go home.”

Neil shrugged, “Apartment has another rat infestation.”

“Dear god Neil, just move!” Kevin shouted.

Andrew guessed this was an ongoing argument. If Josten’s budget for rent was anything like his clothing he didn’t have very high expectations of his apartment.

“There is another guest room.” Said Andrew. “You don’t have to babysit Kevin. Or do you not trust me?”

“Of course not.” Josten snorted. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Is it that strange? To not like music?”

“Yes.” Andrew replied immedietly.

Kevin’s boredom got the better of him. He jumped up from his seat, glaring at them both. “Josten play chess with me”

“No. You always yell at me when I try to move around the edge.” Josten groans, unmoving.  
“Yes, because that’s not how chess works,” Kevin argued.

Andrew soundlessly got up from the sofa and made his way to the chess table, set up by the window. “You get white.”

Kevin seemed pleased by this decision, quickly joining him. Kevin was a good chess player, but Andrew’s perfect memory made him better.

“Checkmate.” Kevin declared, smugly after the first game.

His smug smile faded 10 minutes into the second game when Andrew took his King. “Checkmate.”

Kevin played everything like he played Exy, all strategy and technique. He always followed the same method, which made him too easy to predict. They continued for four more games before Andrew dismissed him to go to bed.

When Josten moved to get up Andrew spoke to him. “I’m going to ask you a question, you can refuse, and I’ll ask something else. Then you can ask me something.”

Josten stopped and considered him. “Deal.”

Andrew fiddled with his lighter in his pocket. “Why do you dress like a homeless person?”

“That’s what you want to know?” When Andrew didn’t reply he sighed. “I grew up on the run. Dressing nicely gets you noticed. I always had money, but I had to make it last, spending money on nice clothes is a waste.”

“And now? You’re not hiding anymore, and you have more than enough money to waste.” Andrew said to him.

Josten just shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Andrew accepted his answer and waited.

“Why did you go to rehab?” Andrew had waited for this question.

“Court-mandated anti-psychotics. Homophobes attacked my cousin Nicky and the courts decided my response had been…dramatic. When my sentence was over, they sent me to rehab to get clean.”

Neil nodded, satisfied. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t reply.

* * *

The next day after practice Kevin directed Andrew to the closest electronics store, buying himself a small Bluetooth speaker.

That night Andrew didn’t hear any footsteps, only music as Fleetwood Mac played from Kevin’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed the "Are you seeing anyone" line off a post I saw on tumblr.


End file.
